Insatiable
by JustCatchMe24
Summary: Arthur's sure he's slowly going mad, and it's all Merlin's fault.


**A/N: ****_Insatiable _****by Darren Hayes. **

* * *

**The Camelot Chronicles **

Part II: _Insatiable _or The ramblings of Arthur Pendragon's very confused mind

* * *

Merlin is a complete _idiot_.

He's clumsy, and awkward, all bony angles and lanky limbs. He can never carry anything anywhere without dropping it at least twice. Asking Merlin to carry around anything valuable is asking for trouble.

Arthur wonders why he ever thought it would be a good idea to entrust him with his heart.

Merlin is friends with all the castle maids, a bunch of tittering, ignorant wenches in Arthur's opinion. He's not a teenager, and neither is Merlin, to be chasing skirts, but Merlin will still stop and chat with every maid who interrupts him in his duties for the prince. His smile, warm and ever ready, shines down on blushing faces, and Arthur grinds his teeth, his shouts of "Merlin!" just that much more pronounced.

When you're lucky enough to be personal manservant of the _prince _of _Camelot_, a man as handsome and clever as Arthur, why would you ever waste a second in anyone else's company? Arthur supposes some of the maids are a bit prettier than he is, that Guinevere perhaps, but really, what excuse could Merlin have for choosing to hang around his knights? That incorrigible Gwaine, and before him Lancelot, and even Elyan and Leon and Percival are all inordinately fond of Merlin, and Arthur has often turned a corner – usually in search of his idiot, absent manservant, to find him leaned up against some wall, arms full of Arthur's laundry or armor or sometimes even his breakfast, while he laughs loudly at a story told him by a preening knight. Arthur knows his knights, okay? He's the one who trains them after all, and he's hand-selected them. He's picked all the arrogant ones, because they're just like him, and he's perfect, isn't he? Naturally, they adore the appreciative audience they find in Merlin, the utter idiot. He's worse than a girl, honestly, the way he'll laugh at their jokes and attempts at wit, his blue eyes crinkling in the corners into laugh lines that make him look so young and carefree. How neither he nor Arthur have looked recently, what with all the Morgana and Uther and magic and drama that has been their life lately.

It's not like Arthur expects much of Merlin. He just wants his own manservant to want to spend his time in his master's presence, instead of a maid's, or a knight's. Or Gaius's. Come to think of it, Merlin seems too attached to the old physician. It's not even as though the man is Merlin's father, but whenever Arthur walks into their chambers unannounced (which is every time), he finds the two deep in rather intriguing conversation that ceases the minute they spot him. He'd die before he'd admit that he's never had that kind of close conversation with his father – and he wants it.

Arthur can't say when he stopped hating Merlin, and started actually liking him. Merlin is not a fool, as much as he sometimes acts like one to serve his own purposes. Arthur can't seem to catch him outright, but he's quite sure Merlin sneaks around, with his own agenda more than half the time.

Merlin is also fiercely loyal, with the aforementioned exception of his habit of talking to every inhabitant in the castle save for Arthur. But as much as he hates expeditions where he takes Gwaine – Merlin will inevitably ride next to his friend, chattering away nonsensically in happy confidence with the knight – he knows that at the first sign of danger, it will be Merlin's worried, "Arthur!" he hears, as his slender body stupidly tries to shield Arthur or protect him, or whatever he thinks he's doing. Merlin's drank poison for Arthur, he's taken arrows and sword blows for him, he's hauled his unconscious arse around and saved him time and again, and he seems to have no intention of stopping, no matter how much Gwaine may make him laugh.

So yes, Arthur supposes it's fair to say he doesn't find Merlin as annoying as he tries to make everyone believe he does. (Arthur has no idea that nobody is fooled by this, not even Uther, who smiles (the man_ is _capable of a smile, once in a while), and disguises his chuckle as a cough when his son's manservant delivers a sharp retort, or outwits Arthur, or compliments him. It's a toss-up, really, which it will be, and they all perplex Arthur equally.)

Still, there's a long way between finding someone moderately tolerable, and liking them. For one, Arthur has never had any kind of inclinations for another man. Though it's debatable if Merlin really is a man, he's so slender and unmuscled, always decked out in his ridiculous boots and even more idiotic neckerchief. It may not be a sin to lie with a man, but it certainly is regarded as more the pardonable, high-spirited shenanigans of a young and restless man. If his people were to suspect that Arthur harbors rather deep, and very repressed _feelings_ for his manservant – that he doesn't just want his body, but his company, his laughs, his smiles – well, let's just say he wouldn't be a prince for long. He probably wouldn't be alive for long either.

Arthur has never loved another person, not really. What he feels for his father – a bizarre mix of hatred and obligation and loyalty – can't be love, otherwise no one else would want to feel it. For Morgana, and his favorite horse, and his dogs – he feels affection, mixed with a sense of ownership. He is a prince, and he's used to owning things, whether it's land or animals or his subjects. And until Merlin became his servant, he was used to owning his servants too.

But Arthur doesn't own Merlin. He may be able to tell him chores to do, and he does have the authority to sentence Merlin to a day in the stocks like a master. But emotionally, Merlin has always been his own man. Once, Arthur had made the mistake of treating Merlin dismissively, something to the effect of, "Oh, he's just my servant," to a knight. Merlin hadn't said anything, of course, just finished removing Arthur's armor and walked back to the armory. That afternoon was the first time Arthur had noticed Merlin talking to Gwen as they hung Morgana and Arthur's laundry. His servant had been laughing, nudging Gwen and grinning as she covered her face in embarrassment. Arthur had been about to chastise him before he'd realized Merlin wasn't technically doing anything wrong. He'd been doing his chores, and he'd been doing them with what was clearly a _friend_. And Arthur didn't have any right to stop him from having those. Merlin was a servant, but he was a person, and he had a life outside of his duties to Arthur. The realization had bothered him more than he'd ever admit.

In all the fairy tales Morgana had recited to him while growing up, the handsome prince would grow up to marry the beautiful princess. They would both have bright blond hair, and sky-blue eyes, be tall and lovely, and their children would be plump and fair-haired. The reality – his princess is a man, with unruly black hair, skinny elbows and knees, and a vexing habit of treating Arthur as if he's little more than an arrogant prat. What happened to the sweetly adoring little wife he was supposed to have?

That is not to say Merlin isn't beautiful. Arthur gravely regrets comparing Merlin to the imaginary princesses of his childhood fairy tales, because, as soon as he had finished listing the spiky hair and gangly limbs and insubordinate attitude, he had (completely by accident), found out that Merlin's hair is deceptively soft and silky. The bony limbs, he's discovered, are covered in smooth, pale skin, tapering into elegant hands and almost delicate ankles and feet. And the lanky body is actually rather solid, especially when it's wrapped protectively around Arthur (ask him and he will tell you this _never _happened, but when it actually did, Arthur rather enjoyed the feeling of being comfortably held by his manservant).

Merlin also has pretty eyes. He's not the only one to think so. Arthur has subtly (unsubtly?) questioned Guinevere about Merlin. From which he has learnt (rather frustratingly) that the maids think he's handsome, Morgana thinks he's adorable, and Guinevere thinks he has the most beautiful eyes she has ever seen in a man. That she said this to _Arthur's _face didn't seem to occur to her as being a problem. Needless to say, this was around when Arthur had started needing his manservant urgently whenever he happened to be chatting with a maid.

What Arthur hadn't expected, though, was for his men to find Merlin attractive as well. As buried as Arthur's feelings are, his knights have no idea the way he feels about comments about his manservant's arse, or how good his long fingers would feel on them. The first time Sir Bedivere had made such a comment, and added something rude about polishing swords, Arthur was hard-pressed not to turn around and smack the man with his training sword. The second time, when Percival, Percival! of all people, quiet, innocent Percival, said that he thought Merlin was the cutest man he had ever laid eyes on, Arthur had choked on his bread. Merlin had brought him a glass of water, and Arthur, eyes watering, had dragged his gaze over Merlin. He stopped choking, and decided that Percival was entirely correct, especially when Merlin bit his red lip rather worriedly like that, and patted his back with those slender fingers. Cute and adorable and entirely too distracting. Arthur started choking again.

So, it's fair to say that, after three months of this, Arthur was a bit frustrated. He didn't _want_ Merlin to know how he felt, since he was trying hard to hide it from even himself. But he didn't like thinking he was the only one with such embarrassing feelings. Merlin, now, seemed to be completely unaffected, though he dressed Arthur every day, and regularly saw him naked, washed his hair and put on his armor. He dragged a shirtless Arthur out of bed, his warm hands sliding all over his torso, he threw Arthur's arm around his shoulders when he was wounded. And he was required to spend all his time staring at Arthur, in council meetings, at meals, in his chambers – in order to anticipate Arthur's every need. So when his life basically revolved around Arthur, Arthur could not understand how Merlin could be so free of any sort of feelings whatsoever. After all, Arthur was incredibly handsome, far more attractive than Merlin – and Merlin seemed to have most of the castle extolling his charms. And Arthur would one day be king. By any reckoning, he was a great catch. But Merlin didn't seem to agree.

* * *

It all came to a head one cool September morning. Arthur woke up from a dream where Merlin had helped him into his bath, and then, to dream Arthur's horror and secret delight, had proceeded to strip himself, and join Arthur in the bath. Arthur had just been reaching out to touch warm, wet skin when he had jolted awake. He groaned and covered his face with his sheet.

"Something wrong?" Merlin's voice from near the door made Arthur shiver. Had he been saying Merlin's name in his sleep? He felt his face heat up, and he stayed under the sheets.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Merlin continued, voice closer now. Arthur heard the sound of a tray being set down, then a dip in the bed as Merlin perched on the edge of it. Curious in spite of himself, Arthur peered out of his sheet fortress. Merlin's hair was messy as usual, but his blue eyes were bright and fond as they took in Arthur, hiding in his sheets like a child, blond hair sticking up straight.

"No," Arthur said after a long pause. He forced himself to stop scanning Merlin's face with what he was sure was very unconcealed longing, and rolled over to stare out the window.

"Why so blue, then? Lovely morning, you know. You've got training with the knights, first thing, that always cheers you." Merlin hopped off the bed and got to picking up the clothes littering the floor.

"What have you got?"

"What?"

"I mean… are you coming to training?"

"Um, I've got… chores for Gaius! Yes, urgent chores, herbs to be-"

"Merlin."

"Yes, sire?"

"You're coming to training today. I let you off all last week."

Merlin groaned pitifully. He hated training, mostly because Arthur used the opportunity to make fun of how weak he was, and used him as a practice dummy. He always ached for days after a morning of training with Arthur.

"Man up, now, Merlin, none of that. You need the practice, you're still pitiful with a sword."

"Well, maybe that's cuz I never get to actually _use_ a sword," Merlin muttered under his breath, but Arthur caught the whisper. His eyes narrowed.

"You know what, Merlin? I never thought I'd see the day. But you're right. Today you'll fight me. With a real sword."

Merlin groaned more audibly this time, and flounced out of the room with his arms full of clothes. Arthur grinned and sat up in bed, his day already looking better.

* * *

The knights cheerily greeted him when Merlin trailed after Arthur into the training yard. Arthur didn't get any notice at all, except from Leon, who patted his shoulder with a smile. The others were all busy crowding around Merlin, who was wearing chainmail that was ridiculously big on him, and holding an actual sword gingerly, like he thought it was about to attack him at any second.

"What's _this_?"

"Merlin's actually fighting today?"

"Someone's lucky day, or did Arthur wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"Morning, mate, you might want to cheer up, that sword isn't going to attack you. Just Arthur."

"Just Arthur, good one, Gwaine. Poor man looks like he's going to faint."

"Nah, Merlin's made of stronger stuff than that," this with an arm thrown around Merlin's shoulders. Arthur gritted his teeth, and marched over to his knights. With a light slap, he removed Gwaine's arm and pulled Merlin away from the group.

"Alright, men, I did promise Merlin an opportunity to fight me, but that's later. Training first, let's get to it."

The men separate to go for a jog and Merlin puts his sword down with a sigh of relief. He pulls something out of his pocket with difficulty from under his chainmail, then plops down onto the grass.

"What's that you've got there?" Arthur inquires with a fine nonchalance. Merlin looks up in surprise. Arthur has never expressed the slightest interest in anything Merlin reads, other than to of course express surprise that Merlin can read at all.

"Just a book on herbal medicine. Gaius wanted me to do a little research. Unless you needed me for anything?"

Arthur wishes he wouldn't phrase things like that. Still he shakes his head, and gestures for Merlin to continue with his research. And if he spends a few extra seconds taking in the way Merlin's brows furrow, and his fingers flip quickly through the pages, his long lashes brushing against those ridiculously beautiful cheekbones, well, he's the prince, and no one's going to comment.

When it's Merlin's turn to face Arthur, he reluctantly sets his book aside, and grasps his sword. Arthur grabs his fingers and rearranges his grip, then nods at Merlin.

"Below the head, Merlin, I'm not putting my helmet on. Try not to inflict too much damage," he adds sarcastically, then puts his sword up defensively. He's aware that Merlin has little experience wielding a sword, and as much as he likes to rub in Merlin's face that he's an incredible warrior, he doesn't need to utterly humiliate the man.

Merlin squares his shoulders and straightens so he's his actual height, which is a bit taller than Arthur. He brings his sword up, and Arthur can't help but laugh at the sight of peaceful, puny Merlin, with a look of concentration in his narrowed eyes. Merlin's cheeks flush as he hears Arthur's laugh, and the good natured jeers of the knights, half of which are taunts to Arthur.

If Arthur weren't distracted by the blush painting Merlin's adorable cheekbones, he thinks, he wouldn't have been taken by surprise by Merlin's sudden assault. The man comes at him, hacking rather unsophisticatedly, but the blows are still strong and would make painful contact if Arthur didn't jump ungracefully out of the way. Arthur stumbles backwards and Merlin makes a beautiful undercut that Arthur dodges by falling flat on his back. It hasn't been thirty seconds and he's staring at the sharp edge of a sword, inches from his chest. Arthur's breathing is harsh and disbelieving, and his eyes travel up the sword to Merlin's face, fierce and powerful. A shiver runs through him, and his eyes settle on Merlin's red mouth longingly. He has never wanted the man so much.

Merlin stares back, sword unmoving. His eyes stay on Arthur's eyes, which are watching his lips. And in that moment, Arthur knows that Merlin _knows_. He struggles with panic, with fear, with shame, but he cannot bring himself to say anything. After what seems an eternity, the other knights jog over to join them, and Merlin breaks their gaze, moving away from Arthur, who stays on the ground, too shocked by the idea of Merlin _knowing_ to be able to do anything. After a moment of allowing the knights to slap him on the back and congratulate him, he throws the sword down and reaches out a hand to Arthur.

Arthur takes it, gasping at how hot Merlin's hand is. Merlin pulls him to his feet, then his fingers slowly recede, dragging across his palm with delicious friction and leaving hot trails in their wake. Arthur stares at Merlin, who has looked away and is turning red with all the praise and attention. He scrubs his hand down the side of his pants, as though Arthur's touch has burned him, or maybe he thinks it has _tainted_ him, and oh, God, Arthur is off again, a million miles away and on a loop of panicked thoughts.

"Didn't he do well, our Merlin?" Gwaine nudges him, and Arthur finally looks away from his manservant. "Eh, Arthur? Even you have to admit, that was impressive."

"It was just luck, really," Merlin is trying to protest, ducking his head and trying to break free of the knights. Arthur blinks.

"What the hell was that?" he asks, and the knights laugh at his befuddlement. They think it is because Merlin actually beat him. He looks at Merlin, who meets his eyes with a lot more warmth than Arthur would have expected from someone who just found out another man was in love with him.

"That was my proof to you that I never need to attend another training session," Merlin says cheekily. He grins at Arthur, and lays a hand on his shoulder briefly. Arthur lets out a bark of laughter that sounds more hysterical than amused to him, but no one else questions it.

* * *

When Merlin gets in to Arthur's chambers after dropping their gear in the armory and cleaning their chainmail, he finds Arthur waiting for him in only his breeches. For a second, Merlin freezes, then he nods and forces a smile.

"You want a bath, then? I'll just go fetch it," he starts to head for the door when Arthur's quiet voice stops him.

"Merlin."

Merlin pauses but doesn't turn around. Arthur sighs.

"Come here."

Merlin slowly turns and approaches Arthur.

"Sire?"

"Merlin, I know you saw in practice today. I know you must know."

"N-no… I don't know what you mean," Merlin says hurriedly. His cheeks are turning a dark red, though, so Arthur is fairly sure he's lying.

"_Merlin_. I'm not an idiot. Neither are you. You know what I'm talking about."

"No, Arthur, I'm sure that-"

"Merlin. I want you to tell me exactly what I mean." He stands up and Merlin nervously takes a step back. "Tell me what you saw today, in practice." Arthur reaches out a hand and grasps his manservant's forearm. Merlin looks down at Arthur's hand and swallows.

"Do you mean…"

"Yes. Go on."

Merlin shifts uncomfortably, but Arthur has had enough of hiding this. He needs Merlin to know.

"How you…"

"Yes. How I?"

"…feel…" the words are a whisper now.

"Feel. About?"

"…me?"

"Put it all together, Merlin," Arthur breathes, and his face is much closer to Merlin's than it's ever been. Merlin is breathing fast, and his eyes are darting from Arthur's eyes to his mouth to the door, like he can't decide if he wants to escape or kiss him. Arthur can't bear the secrecy even a moment longer.

"Say it," he commands. Merlin looks into Arthur's eyes, his gaze intense and hot.

"I know how you feel about me," Merlin says in a low voice. Arthur's breath catches in his throat as his best and worst dreams are confirmed. His head spins and his heart pounds. And then Merlin leans in to press a hard, hot kiss against his lips, and he stops thinking altogether.


End file.
